Where the Heart Is (2 page)

Ten minutes later, she drove past a painted sign that read
Blackberry Inn
and pulled into a gravel lane. A large, '80s-style house came into view. Not exactly the quaint country bed-and-breakfast she had in mind. It was also completely dark, save for the exterior lights flooding the driveway.

She parked the car, grabbed her purse—because it was the only thing she had—got out, and made her way to the front door. She knocked softly, not wanting to wake any of the guests since it was past 2
a.m.
When no one came, she knocked harder. Still nothing. A furtive search for a doorbell revealed nothing. After another minute or two of knocking and no response, Chloe pulled out her phone and dialed the inn's number. After three rings, the voicemail picked up. No, she didn't want to leave a message about making a reservation. She wanted to
claim
her reservation.

She didn't know what to do—simple decision-making seemed quite beyond her at this point. Pound on the door and scream to wake the dead? Or just go somewhere else? But where? She supposed she could drive to the next town—a good twenty-five minutes at least—and see if the hotel there had a vacancy. After waffling another minute, she decided she couldn't bring herself to make a scene. The other guests didn't deserve to have their sleep interrupted because the innkeeper had forgotten about her.

As she made her way back to the car, she finally heard the door open. She swung around expectantly.

“What is it?” the man asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Chloe retraced her steps to the door, relieved she didn't have to leave after all. “I have a reservation.”

“At two o'clock in the morning?” He sounded quite cranky, not that Chloe blamed him. She
had
woken him up in the middle of the night. But then, he
was
running a business. “I don't have any rooms available.”

“What?” Chloe didn't bother hiding her frustration. “I called earlier tonight and was told you had a room. I gave you my credit card number.”

“Me? No. We only have two rooms and they're booked all week. Must've been someplace else.”

Oh, God. What had she done? She'd been so upset. Flustered. But she couldn't go and stay with Mrs. Boatwright. She'd just as soon sleep in her car.

“You all right?” he asked, staring at her face.

Chloe realized tears had started leaking down her cheeks. “Yes.” Why lie? “No. My house just burned down and I don't have anywhere to go.” The tears threatened to come in earnest and she didn't want to break down in front of this stranger. “Do you know where I can go?”

He opened the door a little wider. “Here. I have a couch, at least, in the common room downstairs. You can sleep there.” He gestured for her to come in and moved aside as she did so.

“Thank you.” She used the back of her hand to dry her cheeks and sniffed.

He moved through the entry, which was only lit by the exterior light shining through a window over the door, and into a sunken living area. He turned on a lamp next to a large sofa that looked comfortable and inviting. At last, the tension left her shoulders.

He gestured toward an end table. “There are some tissues there. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets.”

“I can't thank you enough for your hospitality. I have no idea who I called earlier, but I appreciate you coming to the rescue.” Right along with the fireman who had saved the cat.

“We take care of people here in Ribbon Ridge. I'll be right back.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs into a lit hallway above.

Chloe blew her nose and decided things could be much worse. She'd only lost things in the fire. Replaceable, mostly meaningless things. Okay, she couldn't replace her artwork, her lucky paintbrush, or her favorite blanket she'd had all through college, but she could start over. Wasn't that why'd she'd come here in the first place?

Yes, this could be a disaster, or it could be a completely new start. And judging by the kindness of strangers in Ribbon Ridge, she could do far worse.

The innkeeper came back and provided her with bedding as well as a towel. And a long floral nightgown that looked like something Chloe's grandmother might wear. “I thought you might need something to sleep in. There's a bathroom through there.” He pointed toward a short hallway next to the stairs. “No shower, but you can clean up in the sink well enough. There's some extra toothbrushes and whatnot in the cabinet. My wife keeps the place pretty well stocked. Oh,” he cringed slightly, “speaking of my wife, she'll start rattling around in the kitchen around 6:30. Sorry about that.”

Chloe doubted she'd sleep anyway. “That's no problem at all. I'm just thankful for your hospitality.”

After he'd gone back upstairs, Chloe peeled off her wet coat and hung it on a hook in the entryway and went straight to the bathroom. Once she'd washed her hair in the sink and erased as much of the smoky smell from her person as she could, she returned to the living room wearing the nightgown, for which she was immensely grateful. Then she made up the couch and climbed into “bed.” She expected to lie awake until the sun rose, but instead fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

And she dreamed of a tiny, gray kitten snuggled against a spectacularly gorgeous fireman, whose name she didn't even know.

 

I
T WAS
nearly 6
a.m.
before Derek Sumner and the rest of the fire crew were done with Chloe English's house. Derek went to the fire chief's rig where Ashley was sleeping in the front seat. She was still snuggled in Chloe's hoodie, but had also been swaddled with one of Hank's spare shirts, which he kept in the back of the SUV. Everyone had taken turns checking on the animal.

“Sumner!” Hank came toward Derek. “Can I drop you and the cat at home? The other guys have got the engine.” The extra tender truck had left hours ago.

“Actually, do you mind dropping me at the Archers'?” It was half the distance to Derek's loft in town, and Emily Archer would be happy to take care of Ashley while Derek got cleaned up and caught a few hours of sleep.

“Not at all.”

Ten minutes later, Hank drove up the quarter-mile drive leading to the Archer family home, a huge arts-and-crafts–style mansion. The drive was lit every hundred feet, and because it was Christmastime, the bulbs had been changed to alternating green and red. Though it was still dark, the lights on the house had shut off hours ago. If they'd been on, the glow would've lit up the countryside—it wasn't quite a Griswold Christmas, but it was close. Robert and Emily Archer loved the holidays. In fact, Derek had never known anyone who loved them more, and it was thanks to them that this time of year had finally begun to mean more than just painful memories.

He shook the past away as Hank pulled into the circular drive and dropped him at the base of the stone steps. Derek picked up Ashley, thanked Hank for the lift, and dragged his tired body up to the front terrace and massive entry.

He unlocked the door and let himself in.

Robert Archer rushed out of his office, which was just off the entry hall, coffee cup in hand. He'd always been an early riser. Tall and slim with thick gray hair that still boasted a few strands of dark brown here and there, he was fit and robust for sixty, which wasn't surprising given his passion for cycling. “Derek? What brings you here at this hour?” His gaze fell on Derek's outfit and he said, “There was an actual fire?”

Derek was one of sixteen volunteer firefighters in Ribbon Ridge, and in his five years of service they'd never had more than a burning pan on a stove or a backyard fire that had started to get out of line. “Yeah, a small house out on McMurtry Lane.”

“Not Mrs. Boatwright's?” Robert knew everyone in Ribbon Ridge, and he certainly knew every bit of real estate. He owned probably 60 percent of it, and his family had founded the town over a hundred fifty years ago.

Derek shook his head. “The other one.”

Rob wrinkled his nose beneath his reading glasses. “Vic Enders owns that place.” Vic owned a bunch of properties in Ribbon Ridge and neighboring towns. He was notorious for being a slumlord, and Rob took pleasure in stealing properties out from under him before Vic could run them into the ground and take advantage of the tenants.

Derek was sorry Chloe had rented from the deadbeat. He hoped she didn't have trouble dealing with him, particularly since the evidence they'd found laid the blame for the fire cleanly at his feet. “Faulty wiring in the walls. Looks like he tried to upgrade the electric to meet code, but cut some corners.”

Rob shook his head. “What a shame. I feel sorry for his tenants. They okay?”

“I think so. It's just a single woman. New to town.”

Rob inclined his head toward the kitten in Derek's arms. “Is that her cat?”

Derek stroked the animal's soft fur. “Sort of. At least she is now.”

“Who's here?” Emily Archer, the woman Derek considered his second mother and loved every bit as much as his first, came into the entryway. “Derek! Why are you standing there in your gear? You look exhausted. And what is that, a kitten?” She bustled toward him, her robe drawn tight over her petite frame. Before Derek could protest, she'd swept Ashley from his arms, not that he'd expected anything less. Emily's heart was a force of nature.

“Yes, we think it might have something wrong with its eyes. I wanted to take her in to see Sam this morning.”

“I'll take care of it, dear.” Emily petted the cat fondly as she looked up at Derek. “You look dead on your feet. Why don't you go on home?”

“Actually, I had Hank drop me off here so I could grab a shower and a nap before work.”

“Work?” Rob shook his head. “Why would you go in to work today? Forget that.”

Derek was the CFO of Archer Enterprises, so if the CEO told him he shouldn't go to work, who was he to argue? “Okay. But I'm filling in this afternoon at the pub. Mike's shorthanded.”

“That's so nice of you.” Emily smiled warmly at him. “You have such a generous heart. But go on, take your shower. I've got your cat.”

“Not my cat, Chloe's.”

Emily glanced at Rob as if he might have the answer. “Who's Chloe?”

Rob shrugged. “I'm guessing she's the tenant of the house that burned down tonight.”

“Oh!” Emily's mouth dropped in horror. “That's awful! I should've realized there was an actual fire. You wouldn't be doing a training exercise in the middle of the night. How did you come to have Chloe's cat?”

“She's staying at the Blackberry Inn tonight. She's new to town, no family, no friends.” He ached for her loss. “I offered to take care of Ashley.”

Rob coughed to cover up a laugh. “The cat's name is
Ash
ley?”

Derek smiled. It was hard to say for sure, but he thought Chloe was in possession of a great sense of humor. Why else would she name the kitten Ashley? “It seemed appropriate, given that I found it outside of a burning house. And she's gray.”

“So she is,” Emily murmured. “Well, I'll take care of Miss Ashley.”

Derek had thought of something on the way over and now seemed like as good a time as any to ask. “Speaking of Chloe, do you think she could stay in the apartment over the garage until she finds a new place?”

“Of course!” Emily said quickly, then sucked in a breath. “But we have guests coming on the fifteenth.”

Derek's brain froze for a moment. December 15 was the worst day on the calendar.

“Unfortunately, she'll need to be out by then,” Emily continued, sounding regretful. “Unless she wants to stay in one of the kids' rooms.” The Archers' house contained nine bedrooms—one for Rob and Emily and every one of their children, including Derek. “I'm sure at least one of them will be available. It's not like they all come home for the holidays, except for the Christmas party, and that's on Saturday.” The company Christmas party was the one time each year when all of their seven kids—plus Derek—would be in the same place, a fact that never failed to disappoint Emily.

“There's another option,” Rob said slowly, fixing his gray gaze on Derek. “Have you decided whether you're going to sell your house?”

God, the fifteenth
and
his house in the same conversation? They were both things he tried to ignore. And unfortunately couldn't. He hadn't lived in the house since his mother had died ten years ago, but he also hadn't been able to sell it and sever the last tie to his youth. Rob's property management company rented it out, and for the most part Derek went out of his way to avoid it. However, it was currently vacant, and Rob had asked him last week if he was finally ready to sell.

“Not yet.” But Derek knew the answer was no. He was just too tired to get into it right now.

“So rent it to this Chloe,” Emily suggested, nuzzling the kitten to her chest. “The last renters had their own furniture, but we can refurnish it from the management company's storage unit.”

Rob took a sip of coffee. “That's what I was thinking. I believe there are painters and carpet cleaners scheduled this week, so we'll have to see when it's available.”

Derek supposed he could rent it to her, but for some reason, he was hesitant. Why? Because he was sort of hoping he would see her socially, and he wasn't sure he wanted to do that in his old house. So he was going to deprive her of a perfectly good place to live because he wanted to ask her out?

Selfish much?

“I'll talk to her about it.” He was already hoping she would decline.

“Excellent.” Emily brought the kitten up and looked into its face. “You sweet little thing. Let's get you some food. I think I have some chicken liver in the fridge. And maybe some milk?” She looked past Ashley to Derek. “Can I get you anything, dear?”

“No, thank you. I'm just going to get cleaned up.” He nodded at Rob and walked past Emily, pausing to kiss her on the cheek and give Ashley a quick pat.

“Leave your clothes outside your room and I'll throw them in the washer while you sleep,” Emily called after him, making him smile with her welcome mothering.

Derek moved from the entry into the oval-shaped hall and inhaled the pine scent of the twenty-foot-tall Christmas tree peeking from the corner of the great room on the opposite side of the hall. A not-quite-life-size sleigh sat in the center of the oval. It was currently empty, but at the party this weekend, attendees would fill it with gifts for underprivileged kids. It was, like so many things in the Archers' lives, tradition, and Derek loved it.

As he made his way down the north wing and then downstairs, he marveled at how much this house felt like home. Unlike the house he'd lived in with his mother for eight years. But that time in his life held too many unpleasant memories. They'd never gotten over his father's death, and then she'd gotten sick. Why the hell wasn't he selling the place?

Because it was all he had of her. Of the time when he'd had a family. Not that he didn't have a family now, the Archers, a cousin of his father's he'd met once who lived in Boston, and his mother's estranged father who lived in Hong Kong and hadn't seen Derek since he was a baby—but it wasn't the same.

Downstairs, he went directly to his bathroom and peeled off his smoke-saturated clothes and tossed them outside the door for Emily to launder. Though he still kept some things in his room, he doubted he had any pajamas. No matter. He might just fall asleep in the shower.

As he climbed into bed a short while later, he saw Chloe's strong, but feminine heart-shaped face framed with dark blond hair, her hazel eyes looking up at him with such a deep fortitude that he smiled to himself. She'd faced the tragedy of the fire with amazing poise and courage. No hysterics. No meltdown of any kind. He really hoped she was okay. Maybe he should've insisted she come here instead of the Blackberry Inn. Emily would've welcomed her and taken care of her, just like she was doing with Ashley.

But that would've been terribly forward. It was already going to be a bit awkward to offer her a place to stay. And maybe to live. Could he go through with that? Could he invite her to live in his house?

His stomach clenched and cold sweat beaded his forehead. He flipped over to his side and punched the pillow to fluff it up beneath his head. For years, Rob and Emily had been trying to convince him to move on. Maybe now was the time.

And really, it probably didn't matter. Chloe was just a woman he'd helped at a fire. She wasn't his girlfriend—hell, she wasn't even his friend. After he returned her cat, he might never even see her again, interact with her, save for the occasional head nod if they passed each other on the street.

That thought didn't make him feel better at all.

 

 

C
HLOE
HAD
slept a good four hours at the Blackberry Inn, and she'd woken up feeling as refreshed as one could feel when they'd just lost their house to a fire. Until she'd called her landlord in Mexico to ask for her deposit, the last month's rent she'd prepaid, and the rest of this month's rent back. Why should he keep her money when the fire had been entirely his fault? Amazingly, she'd gotten him on the phone, but he'd put her off, telling her they'd settle things when he got back in January, after he'd had a chance to review what had happened. She'd told him she didn't think that would work for her, and that she'd see what an attorney had to say. Backpedaling wildly, Vic had told her his accountant would be in touch soon. Ha! Chloe wasn't the kind of person to sit meekly by and be taken advantage of.